Hot Tulsa Streets
by PurpleBlaze
Summary: Crime, drama, and more angst than should be legally allowed are all gyrating around our favorite golden greaser. Because the hardest part about getting older, is growing up. --temporarily discontinued--
1. Prelude

_Author Warning: This story contains mature content in later chapters. The rating will eventually change to 'M' in order to reflect this._

* * *

Every person in the bar would be deaf by midnight. Elvis rock music pounded out of large speakers at such a loud pitch that the lyrics were unfathomable. Nobody came to listen to the lyrics anyway.

Except for me, I liked this song.

As a fourteen year old, I shouldn't have even been allowed to come in the first place. But we knew the bartender/bouncer, so I was allowed to be secretly ushered in.

_"No thanks, I'll stay home." I curled my legs up under me and found my place on the page._

_"You heard the kid. He ain't comin'." Soda ignored Steve and barreled on._

_"Come on Pone. Two-Bit only turns nineteen once, and I want my baby brother there to help me properly celebrate. Plus, he can legally drink now."_

_Steve said, "He doesn't have to hide his beer from the fuzz anymore."_

_I knew the only reason Soda was pushing so hard was because he wanted me to get out of the house. Ever since Johnny's and Dally's deaths I had personified the very definition of 'homebody'. Once summer hit I did not have to leave for school and track anymore, so my new habit became blatantly obvious._

_"If Darry comes, I'll come," I relented, not removing my gaze from the tattered play. Soda bounded toward the kitchen._

_Satisfied, I prepared for a restful evening with only Rosencrantz and Guildenstern for company. There was no way Darry would ever go out to a party when he had to be to work at seven. And that, I thought, is that._

_My ideal evening crashed down around my ears when Soda reappeared with a smug expression. He looked like he single handedly fought off fifty Socs on his own. Darry trailed behind Soda._

_"No," I protested upon seeing my guardian._

_"We're leaving in five Pone." Soda slapped me on my pecks before heading toward the bathroom where a grease tub waited._

_"No. No way. No, no, no," I repeated to Darry. I slammed my book down on the water ringed coffee table. Darry crossed his unnaturally buff arms while I took on a similar (but embarrassingly less intimidating) stance._

_"First off," I jumped in, "It is very irresponsible of you to allow Soda to go when he is still underage." I ignored the facts that a) Soda rarely drinks, and b) Darry knows there are worse things out there so he doesn't mind alcohol so much. "Second, I don't think the state will approve of me staying out so late in an unhealthy environment." It was a low hit, but I wouldn't have said it if I weren't so desperate not to go. Darry didn't get provoked liked I hoped he would. To my surprise, he even smiled. _

_"It's not a school night," he pointed out. "Second, it's hardly a dangerous environment for you when I will be there. Third, if Soda is going to drink like you say, once again it would be better if I were there to supervise him." Darry's smile widened. I knew what he was thinking… how ridiculous my point had been considering Soda didn't need alcohol burning his brain cells to let loose and the legal drinking age never had meant anything to anyone in our gang but to hide the booze when the police happened by. Darry's smile faded. "Most importantly, you need to get out of the house and be with people your own age."_

Which is how I ended up at the Koko bar. A trashy bar/ dance floor in a trashier part of town where underage Greasers, Socs, and people in the middle gathered because the owner didn't care who showed up or who bought what as long as he got paid in cash.

I ended up holding up the graffitied wall next to the bar, feeling a perfect mix of lonely and lousy. Lousy because I knew that I should be trying to fit in but not having any desire; lonely because I felt acutely aware of who was missing.

Soda was hustling pool nearby amidst a crowd of pretty admirers. His buxom cheering section included both the pretty Socs and the the too greasy girls from our part of town. Jealous Soc boys eyed Soda, but Steve stood near Soda's back, carefully playing with a switchblade. A part of me wanted to go be with Soda, but I didn't want to be where nobody, with the sole exception of Soda himself, wanted a young kid around. I wouldn't be allowed in the crowd at all if Soda didn't vouch for me. Two-Bit sat at the bar, of course, schmoozing amiably with the bartender. Heaven knew where Darry disappeared to.

I wanted out of there. I slunk out the back exit into the muggy summer heat. It felt better than the press of body heat inside the club.

The first puff of my cigarette did little to soothe my nerves. It wasn't until about the tenth that I relaxed against a wood railing.

Because the music from inside was too loud even ouside, it took me a moment to pick out the upset screams coming ten yards away. Two shadowy figures scuffled on the pavement.

"Get away from me," the smaller figure screamed as she attempted to push the bigger figure away from her. The girl's nails dug into the man's biceps. He cursed and smacked her to the ground. The streetlight illuminated red hair and a facial profile before she scrambled up. My lungs choked on the smoke filling them. I would recognize Cherry Valence anywhere.

I immediately tossed my cigarette over the railing; Not even bothering to between stamp it out. "Get away from her," I shoved myself between their bodies.

"Mind your own business Greaser," a gruff voice commanded. Whiskey stench pervaded my nostrils.

"Get out of here," I shot back bravely.

Knuckles slammed into my jaw. Apparently this guy knew how to punch even when drunk. I stumbled backward into Cherry. Her small hands steadied me.

"Just get back inside Ponyboy," Cherry murmured. That threw me.

"But he… you wanted…"

"Scat Ponyboy." Sharper this time. The tone did not match her distressed face.

"It's your funeral," I muttered as I retreated to my place on the porch. Cherry joined me a few minutes later. She held out a bottle of beer toward me like a peace offering. An open bottle was already clutched in her left hand. I took the unopened one from her and popped the bottle cap off using the railing. I did it expertly, like I drank all the time, which I didn't; not ever. However, I didn't want to appear too young or inexperienced to Cherry. The cold perspiration of beer felt good against my overheated skin.

"Who was that?" I asked into the silence.

Cherry gulped a swig of beer. "My boyfriend. Lewis." I hoped it wasn't just my imagination that made her voice self-conscious.

I said shortly, "Nice guy."

Cherry sighed, rubbing bruised wrists. "He's only like that when he's had too much to drink."

"That's right, you love the dangerous type."

"Don't judge me." She swung around to glare at me with her pretty green eyes.

"I'm sorry." Together we stared into the pitch of night.

"Aren't you going to drink that while it's cold?" I forgot I held a beer. Hastily I sipped it. Gross! Not wanting to nurse such a taste, I chugged the whole thing down.

Cherry didn't comment. We watched a guy stumble out of a building farther away. He was so smashed that he kept having to stop his uneven walk north so that he could consistently blow vomit chunks into the gutter. I assessed myself. Perfectly sober, I deduced. It would be humiliating to be even a little tipsy after only one serving. Cherry trapped a gecko under her hands.

"So how've you been Ponyboy?"

"Not too great," I admitted. One delicate eyebrow raised. "I'm trapped, my brothers are trapped, my friends are trapped. We're all kept down and we all keep each other down. The American dream is impossible when you got no breaks. We all know we're going nowhere far in life." I leaned closer as I confided, "There's just no making it."

Cherry's lips twitched.

"What?"

"You're not much of a drinker, are you? After only one beer you're feeling pretty chatty." My ears burned.

She laughed. I watched her finally allow the gecko to escape. We leaned on our elbows. I was aware of our extremely close proximity. I wanted to kiss her, but inexperience made me shy. Heck, simply being shy made me shy. I guess the tiny allotment of liquor gave me an extra push of stupidity. I leaned in for my first kiss ever. My lips were intercepted by a soft hand.

"I have to go," Cherry told me softly. She pulled her fingers off of my mouth, finished her drink, and pulled car keys from her purse. "Bye Ponyboy. You're a good friend." Wasn't it just like me to want something that I couldn't have. Greaser girls were ripe for my picking, and all I craved the less harsh beauty of Soc women.

"You're not planning on driving drunk are you," I snapped, partly out of hurt and partly out of agonizing memories. Not listening for an answer, I marched back into Koko.

A fight was going on. I checked, but my gang wasn't involved, so I didn't have to get involved. Hard hands gripped my shoulders from behind. They turned me around so I faced relieved ice-blue eyes. The relief had replaced the previous worry.

"Where were you?" Darry demanded.

"Having fun," I shouted over the loud fight and the louder music. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

I think Darry's worry for my psychological well being overshadowed how annoyed the old Darry would have been at my impertinence.

"I just lost track of you kiddo."

I shrugged out of his grasp. My life was so frustrating. Too bad there was nothing I could do to soften my despair. Despite my trepidations from earlier, I trudged over to the pool table my other brother leaned at. Darry watch me go.

Soda bit his lip before knocking two solids into the corner pocket. If I didn't already know he was an expert at pool, I would have bought Soda's surprised expression.

"What a lucky shot!" he gasped with wide eyes. People who bet money against him (hoping for easy cash) fidgeted nervously. Soda threw an arm around a blonde next to him. He dazzled her with a smile. She giggled. "You must be my good luck charm," he announced and kissed her boldly. She giggled even harder.

"It's still your turn," Soda's opponent said.

"It is?" Soda asked with confusion.

"He's putting it on a little thick." Two-Bit appeared beside me with a pitcher of beer. I nodded agreement. Soda leaned back over the table and lined up an easy shot. He glanced up as the cue went back. Handsome brown eyes met mine. He missed the ball by a mile.

A random guy near me jeered, "So much for beginner's luck." Soda's opponent came up for his turn. Soda, meanwhile, rounded the table to reach me.

"What's wrong?" he asked before he even stopped. He knew me so well. I wondered what new emotion he read in my expression. He already knew about every angst and fear up to tonight.

"You can't just leave me alone just once Sodapop!" I took a step back. Soda looked hurt. He just wanted to understand me; A fact I normally loved him for, but resented tonight.

"Your turn again," a girl said to Soda. She pressed her body against his. Still watching me, he pushed her away. I slunk into the crowd when Soda reluctantly turned back to the game.

What the hell was wrong with me? I needed to do something drastic to pull myself out of this deep funk. And not only for my sake.

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_Just like heavy rainfall, feedback and comments never go unappreciated by me._


	2. Nocturne

**Dear Kind Reviewer,**

**If you would allow me this one moment of your time, I would be much obliged. I realize this story has been on hiatus for a very, ****very**** long time. But let me assure you, gentle soul, that this recourse came about as a result of a cruel twist of fate not by my hand. A computer virus ravaged my laptop, and ****all**** of my files not on back-up had to be erased in an effort to starve the beast. Unfortunately, the final draft of ****Hot Tulsa Streets**** was one of many innocent victims sacrificed to the virus' alter. I re-downloaded many of my old programs (although my desktop is still embarrassingly naked), but my despair over my deceased hard work kept me from re-doing the following story. Fear not sweet listener, for my conscience got the best of me in the end. So allow me to introduce, with no further ado, the redone version of ****Hot Tulsa Streets****.**

**Humbly,**

**PB**

In my defense, I never intended to eavesdrop.

I was lying on my stomach under the combined shade of our house and a dying bush. Nicotine soothed my nerves as I burned through one cigarette after another. I smoked through the first few frantically, now I was onto idling my way through the rest of the pack.

As I alternated between dozing and puffing, I heard the soft clinking of silverware from the kitchen window right above me. Darry must be getting ready for work. Seven AM sounded just about right, or close to it. I heard the entire Darry-morning routine: measure out the cheap black coffee he drinks, crack open eggs over a sizzling skillet, etc.

Darry's voice floated out of the window and down to my level, "What are you doing up?"

"Is Pone down here?" A sleepy voice questioned. Darry paused a moment before answering Soda, as if he were scanning the living room and kitchen in case I were hiding. "No."

I heard a quiet sigh. The fridge door opened and closed. More dishware tinkled; Soda must be having chocolate cake. He said quietly, "He must've gone running- burn off all that energy. He was a tossin' and turning all night." Silverware tinked against glass. Soda said with a mouthful of food, "At least he's out of the house."

Pouring liquid sounded off, and the distinct aroma of Darry's first cup of coffee pervaded the air. "I don't know what I'm going to do about that kid."

I expected Soda (like normal when they didn't think I was listening) to say, 'Don't worry Darry, it's just a phase. He'll snap out of it.'. Instead I heard, heavy, "I don't know either."

Some object I couldn't identify by sound got hit by some other mysterious force. Darry said, "He doesn't ever look like he's having fun anymore. That's why I made him go with you last night even though it was against my better judgment."

"That should've tipped Pone to how worried you are. Because you're normally such a hard ass that you never let us go to a place like that. Not to mention on a work night."

I toyed with the idea of popping into the window like an inane toddler. 'Here I am!' Too much exertion. Instead I fell asleep. I woke up when the sun shifted to shine straight at my eyes. After allowing myself a minute to wakeup, I pushed myself up onto my feet.

Soda was sitting in Darry's recliner when I came in. His DX shirt adorned him.

"Soda," I acknowledged.

His mouth split into a smile. "Hey Pony!" He sprang forward as if to tackle me, but instead missed me by inches to snag his DX cap from its spot on the cooler. He laughed hen I went into and recovered form a defensive posture. "Wanna come to work with me? I'll even buy you Pepsi."

About to refuse as I normally did, I though better of it. "Sure."

"Really? Awesome let's go." He grabbed onto my arm and pulled me out the front door. A glimpse of the clock flashed before me before I found myself whisked back outside. "You were supposed to be at work over an hour ago," I accused. "It's after ten."

Soda didn't break from his sidewalk lope. "Sure," he said easily. "I just had a feeling today was my lucky day for talking my baby bro into helping me change oil." He grinned his crazy grin at me, which caused a smile from me. But that did not dissuade me like he intended. "Didn't Steve come to pick you up at nine?"

"He came. I told him to go ahead." I mentally finished the incomplete sentence, 'so that I could wait for you.' He glanced toward me and did a double take. He ran a hand down a lump just beginning to form under my eye. "When did this happen."

Evasive, I said, "I ran into a door. It was stupid." I could tell that Soda did not believe me, but he still let it go.

"You're late Curtis," Soda's boss called when we walked in.

Soda called back, "I love that you miss me when I'm not around."

The boss came out and jerked his thumb toward the counter. "Your fan club's been waiting for you." Three teenage girls combed through the magazine rack, eyeing Soda over the edges. "Apparently I can't ring up candy bars or pump gas as good as you."

Soda waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "So I've heard." The boss, Ed, shook his head and went into the back. Soda went to the counter and leaned over it. His lean muscles flexed, which the girls noticed and appreciated by the direction their eyes turned. "So I hear there's something only I can help you with."

"We want your opinion on something." A brunette held up a magazine. "Who do you think is prettier," Her or," glossy pages rustled, "her?"

"I'll almost always pick the brunette if I get the option," Soda flirted.

Bored, I decided to go help Steve in the garage. A pair of legs stuck from under a '65 Camaro. "Hey Ralph, hand me the Torx." Ralph passed down the wrench. I hung back at the garage entrance. I never liked Ralph. Something about the fellow creeped me out.

"So you say Curtis had to wait fro his kid brother."

"Yeah, kid's been kind of loopy since Johnny and Dally kicked the bucket."

"It's been months, and I don't see you or the rest of your gang moping all the time."

"Ponyboy was closer to Johnny than anyone. I'd mope too if it had been Sodapop." Aw, Steve defended me. Who knew he cared. But then he ruined it by adding, "Plus, the damn pansy's always been all overemotional."

"So, is the boy into other men, if you know what I mean?" Steve's head shot out from under the car into view, looking affronted. If he looked directly to his right, he would have seen me skulking near the doorway. Luckily he was too busy looking fiercely at Ralph to turn his head. I'm glad Steve looked offended, I certainly was!

"Pony digs girls!" He said with finality. Duh! What was Ralph's problem?!

"Sorry, sorry." Ralph said defensively. "He's just never seemed that interested."

Not wanting to get caught listening in, I went back to where Soda was holding court.

"Is this your little brother?" One asked as when I approached.

"Yup, my favorite little brother to boot."

"He's going to turn out as handsome as you Sodapop, it's as clear as day."

"Are you shy?" A blonde girl with an oversweet voice looked down on me. How was I supposed to answer that? With a 'yes'? There's a conversation stopper.

Soda threw an arm around me. "He likes to give off the strong silent type impression."

The bell above the door pinged when a middle aged woman came in. "I need a tank full of gas for my Chevy."

Soda tipped his hat, "Yes ma'am." He walked around the corner past her, and I swear she checked him out. The girls he left behind turned to me. "What's it like having Soda for a brother?" I swear it was like living with a celebrity sometimes.

"Soda's real crazy. Fun to be around too."

Brunette leaned toward me. With magnified hair and clumped on make-up there was no mistaking her for anything but pure grease. She popped her gum and said, "There's no mistaking a name like Ponyboy, you're definitely the one my kid sister and all her friends have a crush on." Pop. "She says you're real sweet."

I didn't know what to say to that. Too bad Soda wasn't here. "Who's your sister?"

"Tiffy Sanders." Ah, Tiffy ran with a tough crowd of hoods that were destined for lifelong prison sentences and death row, always had a neck full of hickies, and everybody knew she lost her virginity at thirteen. Why was it the case that the classy girls I liked never looked at me twice because of the grease in my hair, but trashier girls were starting to take notice? Kind of hypocritical of me, I admit.

"Tiffy's a nice girl."  
Her sister laughed like a bucket of nails. "No she's not, but it's sweet of you to say so."

Soda rejoined us then. "It's hot as the dickens out there."

"They still haven't found who killed that boy." We all turned. The girl with the scarf in her hair looked up from the paper. She showed the page she was on in the middle of the paper.

Steve joined the group then, wiping oily hands on a rag. "Probably the same group that's been jumping us all the time."

"It's gotten worse."

"Crime rates go up with temperature. It's a proven fact." That was my little tidbit to add.

"Well that explains a lot."

"If it gets any hotter we're all going to get a beatin' or two."

I retrieved Head Scarf's discarded paper while she latched onto Steve next. Dark eyes stared at me through the black and white graininess.

_Unappeasable heat set in as soon as I went to bed. It didn't seem to be bothering Soda. He only woke up whenever I got particularly restless; and even then it was just long enough to make sure I didn't need to be woken from the grips of a nightmare._

_After an hour or two, I decided I needed get out of the suffocating room. Being careful not to disturb the bed's other occupant, I slipped out of bed, down the hall, past Darry's room, and out the front door. Much better. It was still hot out at two in the morning, but at least not claustrophobically so. My muscles, still not used to it being summer and not running everyday from track, wanted to run, so I did. My meanderings brought me along the dredges of Glen Bluff Park. Large concrete water sewers ended here._

_Darry, Soda, and I would go there as children and crawl along the insides, daring each other to see how far we could go before chickening out. It wasn't a fun feeling to be in total darkness knee high in ice cold water. When Darry and Soda got to old for such nonsense, Johnny and I would go there sometimes to smoke, throw rocks, and shout into the echoic caverns._

_A panicky voice disturbed the reverie of my quiet exercise. "Shit Tony, I think he's dead." A series of shushes followed the cry. My jogging pace slowed. I should have turned around then there, but that would have been using my head. I didn't have a reputation for not having common sense for no reason._

_There was a group of about five of them. All stood in a tense circle around a lumpy piece of earth. One of the figures bent down to pick up portion of the ground. It separated easily. I swallowed the horrified gasp that wanted to punch out of my mouth. That was a hand. That was an arm. And that was a body. The man took of a metallic band from it and the limb fell limply back down. I backed away._

_Crack! Just like that, a dry stick gave away my position. _

_'Run', my mind screamed. My body obeyed. I almost made it to the edge of the park when they caught me. There were more of them, so the fastest one just had to cut me off to give the rest a new advantage._

_Breath flew from my lungs as my body hit the ground hard and got pinned. Warm earth pillow surrogated my skull._

_"What did you see you little shit?" Spittle sprayed my face. "What did you see?"_

_"I didn't see anything!"_

_"I don't believe you!"_

_"He'll tattle!"_

_"I won't. I swear!"_

_Looking up into the cruelest eyes I had ever encountered before, and how they glared through me with such intense hatred, I believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would not live to see another sunrise again in my life. For he would kill me to save his hide and he wouldn't feel a single shred of remorse. I felt the shift, I heard the distinctive swish of a switchblade being opened, I waited to die, and I wondered how much it would hurt._

_Then my saving grace slowed the silver wielding killer with two words, "That's Curtis."_

_I met the eyes of Curly Shepard. Shepard looked away first. "I know Curtis. He's cool Lew. He won't squeal."_

"Are you in there?" A hand waved in between my face and the photo of the recent murder victim. I dropped the newspaper back on the counter. "Sorry Soda. I was just thinking."

"You get lost in your own head more often." He shook his and before he plopped an ice cold Pepsi in front of me. "Now let's go work on cars and do manly stuff like that."

All afternoon, as I handed Soda tools and even got to work on engines a couple of times, a treacherous thought repeated over and over like a turntable, 'I wish he had killed me.'


End file.
